Tainted Goods
by Willow8
Summary: Quatre is 'mistreated' at the hands of a madman. Can he go back to the one he loves unclean? MENTIONS RAPE, SLASH AND OTHER SERIOUS STUFF Please review! UPDATE 7th June!
1. Unclean

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

A/N: This is an unsually dark fic for me. It's rated R to be on the safe side. Mentions rape and abuse. There'll also be slash in later chapters. Please don't read if any of that offends you. If you do read, please review!!

Chapter 1 - Unclean

"...Quatre..." Duo cried hoarsely, trying to move his unresponsive body towards his friend's unconscious one. The blonde lay on the floor, battered and bleeding as Oz soldiers ran in and out, one stopping and looking down at Quatre. Realisation clicked onto his face and he called a couple of other soldiers over to help him carry the blond out. "No, Quatre... no..." Finally, his body began responding again, and he got to his knees, angry at himself for not being able to move any faster. Slowly getting his footing, he stood up and began walking forward after his friend, each step more painful than the last. He hoped and he prayed that he would find Quatre before he was found, but going at the rate he was now, it was unlikely that he would find anything but unconsciousness. As he predicted, he passed out just as he reached the door, his hand slipping off the door handle and his vision going black.

The same time two days later, Duo was laying unconscious in a large bed in one of the Winner mansions, Wufei pacing up and down on one side of him, Trowa standing with his arms crossed shaking slightly on the other. 

"Sit down Trowa; he won't be able to tell us anything until he wakes. And I'm not even sure that he will wake up." Wufei checked Duo over again. His injuries consisted of; a broken leg, snapped bones in his arm, deep head wound and 4 broken ribs, which were healing nicely as far as the Chinese boy could see. Duo had been stirring occasionally; making undecipherable words and his eyelids flickered as if he was dreaming. "We will just have to wait until he wakes to know for sure what happened in there, it was lucky that we found him and took him out before they blew the place up."

Duo's eyes snapped open.

"Blew it up?!" He cried, cringing as he sat bolt upright, jolting most of his broken bones. "They blew up the compound? But, but Quatre was in there! He was in there and they blew it up?!" Duo flopped back onto the pillows, wincing again. "I don't believe it... but they wouldn't blow it up with Quatre in there, they wanted him. It was my job to get him out, and I didn't. I failed." Duo's eyes became devoid of emotion. "I let Quatre fall into their hands, and I didn't stop them. I couldn't stop them." He usually cheerful American dropped his head and let out a shaky sigh. "I failed... I'm so sorry Trowa." 

"Duo, it wasn't your fault, I would mark it a miracle that we got you out alive. But please, try to rest. You won't be able to help us if you don't make a full recovery. Please just rest." Wufei bowed to Duo before leaving the room. "Sleep well, I will send food up to you later." Once Wufei had left, Duo turned a sorrowful and guilt ridden gaze up to Trowa. Unable to say anything because he didn't trust his voice, Duo could only shake his head and apologise with his eyes. It seemed that Trowa didn't trust his voice either since he just looked Duo in the eye and patted him on the shoulder before turning and walking out. 

Duo watched the door close and felt his stomach turn over. He had never felt so terrible, he felt desperately sad and guilty, and he felt so alone. All he wanted to do was curl up and cry, but he wasn't even granted that comfort, since the broken ribs stopped him moving too much and made breathing both difficult and painful.

Darkness, pain, constant throbbing inside his head... Quatre groaned and his eyes slid open, widening as he took in his surroundings. Whatever chair he was on, he was tied to it, the blond could feel the ropes digging into his wrists and ankles. His captor was sitting in the corner of the room and seemed to be talking to himself, and smoking, since even through the hazy light of the room, Quatre could see the tendrils of smoke curling around the shadowy figure. He couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his back as the smoke was disturbed, presumably by the person's head as they turned to look at him. 

"Ah, so you're awake." The voice said quietly, chuckling as they rose and crossed the room, relying on the half-light to keep their face hidden. "I was wondering when you would be joining me." By the low tones of the speaker's voice, Quatre guessed that his captor was a man, either that, or it was a very butch woman. "You are far too beautiful to be fighting a war Quatre..." He whispered, the blond captive could feel his breath on his lips, could smell tobacco smoke and cinnamon. Not smells he could associate with anyone he knew. His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, and he could make out the shape of his captor – well built, tall, but hunched over, leaning down in front of Quatre. One hand slid onto Quatre's knee and ran up and down his thigh gently. "So I am going to keep you here, where you will be safe...with me..." 

"Where is here?" Quatre finally asked nervously, leaning as far back as he could in his chair without falling over. His heartbeat quickened in fear as the hand that had previously been stroking his thigh moved to stroke the side of his face. The voice let out a low chuckle.

"I couldn't say. I can only tell you that you will be safe here, away from the war, away from those people that you call friends, your comrades, your enemies..." His thumb caressed Quatre's soft skin and the boy felt repulsed by the action. His nose wrinkled and the figure grabbed his nose and jerked his head forward, Quatre's eyes meeting his, each only able to see glints – one manic, the other terrified. 

"What do you want?" Quatre asked tentatively, fear rising in his throat as the man's hands strayed down his face, running down his throat, over his chest, down his thighs and then back up to his head again. 

"You. I want you Quatre, I want to keep you safe. Keep you mine." He felt one of the man's hands stray back up his leg. "I want to make you mine... forever..." The hand pressed down on his groin and Quatre had to keep himself from making a noise. He stiffened slightly and bit down hard on his lip. As the man kept touching and groping, a thin layer of sweat appeared on Quatre's forehead. It was becoming harder and harder for him to remain calm and quiet as the man touched him in ways that he really shouldn't. The man stopped and looked up, removing his hands from Quatre as soon as he saw the blonde's eyes clenched shut, trembling with the effort to keep still and quiet. One of his hands reached up and felt the sweat. As he realised that he was bothering Quatre, he leant forward and licked the sweat off the boy's forehead and smirked as he felt Quatre wince under his touch. 

The door opened and Quatre opened his eyes to take a look at his captor in the new light. He was a man, roughly 6 foot tall, with striking and well defined features, dark hair and fairly dark eyes. There was another standing at the door, slightly leaner and smaller, Quatre was immediately reminded of Trowa, but when he spoke, Quatre was reminded that he was far, far away from home.

"Lucien, Sir, you are needed at headquarters. You can come back for your _toy_ later." The man got abruptly to his feet, wind blowing across Quatre's face, reminding him that he was cold. 

"Do not take that tone of voice with me Millicent." Quatre looked at the man standing at the door with pity. 

"Sir, I have asked you before, please don't call me Millicent. I prefer the name Mark." 

"I know full well what you prefer _Millicent, and I will call you what I see fit. I will not come to HQ, they can deal perfectly well without me. Can you not see that I am making our _guest_ feel at home?" Millicent bowed and walked off, shutting the door and mumbling to himself. Lucien turned back towards Quatre and stroked his face once more._

"Quatre, what is the matter?" He asked finally, when he noticed that Quatre's trembling didn't stop and the pale skin was sweating underneath his hands – hands that were slowly undoing the buttons of Quatre's shirt.

"Don't." Squeaked Quatre pathetically, shaking his head. "Please, don't..." 

"But don't you see? We are perfect for each other, you and I, we belong together, you don't belong with that clown you claim that you love, he doesn't love you. He loves your money, he loves those pretty little cheques."

"That's not true!" Quatre burst unexpectedly, Lucien's hand coming off Quatre's buttons and slapping him harshly across the face. 

"Yes it is! And you won't contradict me like that again." He ordered, Quatre's head still turned from where he was slapped. "If you do, I will be sure to hurt you."

"Trowa loves me." He persisted, locking eyes with Lucien, anger burning deep inside his aqua orbs. "And I love him."

Disgusted at Quatre's disobedience, Lucien pushed himself off the boy and stood upright. He looked sad for a moment before a manic smile settled on his features, the half-light throwing it out of proportion, making him look like a mad man. 

"You will love me as I love you Quatre. Even if I have to take your love by force. You will also learn to obey me. That, I'm afraid, since it hasn't come naturally, will have to be beaten into you. _Millicent will be here soon to teach you a lesson." He swiftly left the room, clicking off the lights plunging Quatre into darkness._

While alone, Quatre allowed himself to feel disgusted at the way Lucien had been touching him. He thought himself lucky that the foul man hadn't kissed him, and he hated being tied to this chair. Millicent wouldn't be too long in arriving... he hated to think what he would do to him. In the half-light of before, Quatre had been able to make out shapes, a table and a bed maybe... and there was obviously a seat in the corner from where Lucien had been watching him before he woke up. 

Footsteps outside the door alerted him to presences outside and he looked over as the door opened, sending light flooding into the room, causing him to clench his eyes shut in protection. He felt something sharp go into his arm and suddenly felt light-headed. He guessed that they must have put some sort of very weak drug into him, weak enough to make his legs feel like lead and make him feel unable to resist or move. When he eased his eyes open, he was being untied but held tight and a needle was being withdrawn from his arm – dripping an acidy green liquid. Someone, who he assumed was Millicent, was giving orders to put him on the table and cuff him in. 

Unable to resist, Quatre found himself carried over to the table, where his ankles were clasped in. His shirt was eased off and folded in a corner and the main lights were flicked on. Quatre took in where he was for the first time – a glorified torture chamber. He was laid down on the steel table, the cold making his back tingle and his wrists were clasped in too. Another syringe was bought near him and dug into his arm, this one holding a fluorescent pink liquid within it, waking him up immediately and making him hyper aware of everything – especially touch – never good when being tortured. 

Millicent waved the men out and wrapped one end of a long strip of leather binding around his hand. With a manic grin, crossed the small distance and leant over Quatre.

"I hear you've been a bad boy Winner." He said, Quatre swallowing the bile that rose purely from the smell of his breath. "So I am here to teach you a lesson." Quatre shut his eyes and turned his head as a sign of disrespect, he wasn't going to show this person that he was scared. Oz had tortured him before...

...but nothing like this...

The first lash came down quickly, the pain radiating like fire, doubled because of this drug. The second one came and the pain spread like ripples, Millicent adding more lashes as the ripples faded. 6...7...8...9... each lash now felt as if it was being done with a white-poker, and it was all Quatre could do than keep from crying out. 

"Not going to scream rich boy?" He taunted, lashing again, taking out all of his fury on the blond's torso which was, by this time, covered in welts, all over. "Fine. If you won't scream now, you'll scream later." He turned and rummaged in a chest for another item of torture. He pulled out a small device with clips, tweezers and needles that moved of their own accord. Quatre's eyes widened as he moved it closer and closer to his body. The instruments all disappeared as the device was placed over Quatre's left index finger. There was a small hum before Quatre felt something moving on his finger, and then a pain that was equally, if not more, painful to the whipping. "This clever little device eases your fingernails out, causing maximum pain, with minimum effort." As Quatre strained not to cry, biting down hard on his lip and wincing as the device eased his nail out of his finger, Millicent looked on in amusement. "Go on, squeal... scream... call for help." He ordered, pulling the device off Quatre's finger, ripping the nail out as he pulled. Quatre made a kind of squeak that he kept at the back of his throat. Looking down at Quatre's now bleeding finger where the nail had been pulled from, Millicent allowed a smile to creep onto his face. "I see what the boss means." He whispered huskily, taking a knife and running it lightly down the side of Quatre's face, only scratching the surface, enough to make it bleed. "You are beautiful. I hate to see such beauty destroyed, I have never had one so pretty before. I will have fun." Millicent kissed Quatre on the top of his head, laying one hand on the welts and pressing down hard. "I will enjoy torturing you pretty boy. Get him out of there, the boss wants him on the bed next time he comes, bandage and clean boys, hurry up!" The men filed in, unclasping Quatre and carrying him over to the bed. Some of them looked at him with impassive eyes, others sorrowful, some regretful, and one man, one man looked apologetic. Quatre could sense that that particular man was good. And he didn't want to be there, maybe they could escape together... They put a lotion on the welts on his torso, bandaged his nail-less finger, put his shirt back on him, buttoning it up gently and then put silk ribbons around his wrists and ankles, tying him to the bedposts. The man who had looked apologetic bent down to clean the wound on Quatre's cheek and whispered in his ear.

"You are Quatre yes?" When he received a subtle nod he continued. "My name is Stuart, I'm with the preventors and I'm here to get you out. Don't worry Quatre, we'll get out of here." 


	2. Busted

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

_A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. This one came to me earlier on today when I was doing biology revision for the exam which I think starts in an hour… anyway, this isn't as dark as the chapter before, but don't worry, I'll make up for it in Ch 3. evil grin_

_Please leave your reviews at the exit!_

_Will_

Chapter Two - Busted

As the men filed out of the room, Quatre's gaze lingered on Stuart. As he shut the door, Quatre was thrown into darkness once more and left to contemplate his position. He wondered why so much care was being taken of him, and of his clothes. He had never felt so vulnerable. He tugged repeatedly at the scarves around his wrists and tried to undo them, but they had been tied in such a way that he couldn't worm his way out of them. The boy cursed under his breath. He shut his eyes and concentrated, seeing if he could be able to use brute force to get himself free. He bit his bottom lip and pulled with his arms, and tried to draw his knees up to his chest.

As he strained all of his muscles, some of his injuries were moved and he let out a gasp of pain. He hadn't realised just how badly he'd been injured. Quatre struggled for a long time until he felt exhaustion pulling at him. He wanted to fight it, he didn't want to fall asleep here, it wasn't safe for him. But his already sleep-deprived mind accepted the tendrils of unconsciousness and pulled it closer. Within seconds, Quatre's eyelids began to close. He struggled against it, but couldn't fight anymore. He shut his eyes and let his breathing even out, maybe the dream world would be kinder to him than this world was…

Duo wanted to scream. They all looked at him with pity, and he had a distinct feeling that Trowa was starting to blame him for Quatre being taken. He couldn't do anything because of his injuries, even though the only reminder of them was throbbing pain everywhere, a cast on his leg and a bandage around his head. The American had caught sight of himself in a mirror earlier and almost wet himself laughing at his shabby appearance. His hair was all messy, his face was still slightly muddy somehow and with a bit of persuasion, he had managed to convince Heero to take the bandage off his head so that he could brush through his hair and re-braid it so that it wasn't so messy and he got Heero's help to wash his face carefully to get rid of the mud. Really, what his hair needed was a wash, but Heero had said that until his head wound was all healed, Duo would have to live with greasy hair. The brunette had sulked for a while before he resigned himself to greasiness and relaxed again.

The sunny pilot of Deathscythe hated the way that he was incapable of doing anything, especially at the moment. He just couldn't even go to the toilet alone. Wufei seemed to even be worried for him, when he found Duo on the floor on the verge of tears earlier that day because he had gone to the toilet and knocked the bottom of his ribs on the sink as he washed his hands. He was suitably embarrassed and even given a buzzer if he felt the need to leave the bed again. He had tried to sleep, since that was what the others had said was best, but he found it so hard, each time he shut his eyes his imagination cooked up horrible images of Quatre being tortured and interrogated at the hands of OZ. He knew that Quatre wouldn't say anything, but he didn't like the thought of the gentle blond suffering at the hands of the cruel men at their opposing organisation.

He thought for another moment, about why this was affecting him so much, he was just worried for his friend's wellbeing, Quatre was one of the first people to be openly kind to him since the Maxwell Orphanage, and being a Gundam pilot, Duo thought that Quatre stood a chance with being protected from his death curse. But obviously that was not the case, he had still been taken. He had to do something, but in his current state, Duo was unable to do anything but lie there, contemplating the fate Quatre had. And it brought tears to his eyes when he thought of how the gentle blonde could be broken… it would tear the whole team apart. Not to mention how it would destroy Quatre. And as Quatre was destroyed piece by piece, so would Duo be… and the braided boy knew it.

"I told you not to hurt him." A hazy voice growled somewhere above him. Quatre blinked blearily and cleared his sleep-fogged brain as he focused on the two people standing above him. The answer was faint, as if its owner was scared. They spoke a bit more before one of them left and Quatre was hauled into a sitting position by Lucien himself and taken over to a chair where he was sat down roughly, his hands being loosely bound behind his back, not so loose that he could get away, but just enough so that he did not get injured.

"What do you want?" Quatre asked, repeating his question of the other day. Lucien's eyes glinted and he walked around the blonde, his hands straying over Quatre's shoulders, fingers brushing the back of his neck causing an involuntary shudder on Quatre's part.

"You know what I want, Quatre." Came the husky reply, his captor's breath hot on his ears.

"You're mad." The younger boy replied angrily, moving his head away from the other man's. "And sick."

"I guess this is going to have to be done the hard way then." Lucien growled, seating himself on Quatre's lap, his legs hooking around the back legs of the chair. Quatre tensed, preparing for a strike or for Lucien's hands to stray all over his body, but nothing happened. "I am sorry that you do not wish to co-operate with me."

Then a rough hand grabbed his chin and tilted it upwards, Quatre wincing in preparation for the injury he would receive. Before he could pull away, Lucien's other hand cupped the back of his head and pulled the smaller boy towards him, planting his lips roughly on Quatre's in a bruising kiss. The blond was too stunned to do anything a first, his blue eyes widening to the biggest they had ever been, but then he began to struggle and thrash in the chair as he regained his senses.

Lucien held tightly to the boy's head and gave a well-timed jab to the ribs, the pilot letting out a gasp of pain, the perfect opportunity for the man's tongue to sneak in. As Quatre protested with as much force as he could, Lucien continued to explore the boy's mouth thoroughly. Finally, Quatre, after almost gagging on the probing tongue, bit down hard.

Lucien jerked away with a muffled yelp of surprise and pain. Quatre glared at him in defiance before he scooted his chair backwards in a vain attempt to get away from him, the coppery taste of the man's blood on his tongue and the taste of the man still on his lips. He inwardly grimaced.

"Why Quatre," Lucien said somewhat thickly. "I never thought you had it in you to deny help to someone who needs it." He gingerly fingered his tongue, wincing as his hand reached where Quatre's teeth had come down. "Never had you down as that type I must say."

Quatre's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I help those who deserve it. I can safely say that you don't."

"Quatre…" Lucien whispered, quickly walking over to Quatre who scooted backwards even further, but as the older man stood above him, the blonde was suddenly very aware that there was a wall sandwiching him between it and the other person. "Quatre, Quatre, Quatre…" It seemed that the man enjoyed the sound of his name on his tongue, but Quatre hated it rolling over his lips, it sounded disgusting, nothing at all like when Trowa said it, even Duo made his name sound nicer.

What were they doing now? Was Trowa worrying? Duo! Oh… what had happened to Duo? Quatre prayed that his braided friend was still alive, allowing his mind to stray as a sharp backhanded slap sent his head reeling to one side, exposing his neck for the man to ravage, his teeth grazing over his neck, biting down hard on his shoulder and then sucking on the exposed flesh leaving a mark.

"Mine…" Lucien growled, teeth latching onto Quatre's shoulder again, nibbling, biting, sucking, licking, tasting, touching… violating…

"I'm not yours." Quatre muttered savagely, another backhand making white spots dance in front of his eyes. "I never will be. You're sick."

"So you said." Lucien grumbled, seating himself comfortably on the younger boy's lap. "However, you'll be singing a different tune when I'm through with you. I defy you to not be praising the ground I walk on after this."

Quatre was vaguely aware of his shirt being ripped off, Lucien's hands straying over his body. He withdrew into himself, his unfocused eyes looking at some part of the wall on the other side of the room and his senses shut down so that he couldn't feel Lucien.

"Sir," The door opened and a familiar voice spoke, startling Quatre back to his body, it was Stuart. "Sir there is someone here to see you. He says that it is urgent, about the captive." Lucien growled and got up off Quatre, a final stroke down the side of his face, smiling as Quatre pulled his head away from the man's touch.

"Very well. Keep an eye on our _guest_ please, Stuart." The Preventer nodded and stepped aside as Lucien swept out. Stuart watched him leave for a second before flicking the light on fully and running in, the door squeaking shut behind him. He headed towards the back of Quatre's chair and began untying the ropes, slashing through the ones around his ankles with a penknife. Looping Quatre's arm over his shoulders, he raised the blond off the chair and started taking him to the door. He turned the light back down and leant Quatre against the wall as he made every effort to shut the door without it squeaking. Reaching into his pocket as he took Quatre's arm again, he flicked a switch and a siren blared throughout the compound. He took off his jacket and gave it to Quatre to wear, just so that he would look like an agent if asked.

"What's going on?" The pilot asked, frowning. "What did you do?" Stuart gave a small grin and made to answer when he stopped, frowned himself and then picked up the pace. Soldiers were pouring from every doorway heading into the main control office. Once of them stopped as they passed by Stuart and Quatre.

"What are you two doing here? And why is he not dressed in uniform?" Quatre kept his gaze downwards so that the other soldier couldn't see it. Stuart's grip on Quatre tightened, making the other boy emit a squeak of pain.

"He's injured. I've got orders from Millicent to take him outside. It would go a lot faster if you would help me carry him. He was ordered bed-rest, but our COs want him transported to the nearest hospital as soon as possible. It's all sorted; I just need to get him to the transport.

The soldier seemed to contemplate that for a minute before he agreed, scooping Quatre up into his arms and carrying him gently with long, measured strides towards the exit of the compound. He moved with a grace strange, unusual from a soldier of his status. Quatre was amazed at how gently he was being held; he briefly wondered whether or not he would have been carried with the same care had the man known he was a Gundam pilot. The answer that came to mind was no. But he didn't say anything; he just murmured a thank-you and the soldier replied with a clipped, "It's nothing for a comrade."

They reached the door and left the building, whilst the alarms were still blaring. Stuart took Quatre from the other soldier and nodded his thanks. The soldier bowed slightly before wishing Quatre to get better soon before turning and walking back into the compound to round up the other soldiers.

"Hurry, Quatre." Stuart urged, the transport within their sights – a small plane that would get them away from the compound. Quatre nodded and gritted his teeth, the adrenaline in his veins forcing him to run faster to keep up with the Preventer in front of him.

As they boarded a carrier, Stuart grabbing Quatre's arm and easing him into the passenger seat. After he had done the smaller boy up, Stuart sat down himself and started the launch sequence for the shuttle. Quatre wanted to help, but his body was shaking with the aftermath of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his system. It was starting to wear off now, and he could feel the pain returning, his breathing coming in ragged wheezes.

He thought that he heard footsteps, featherlight as if someone was trying to mask their presence. Quatre thought of mentioning this to Stuart, but when he heard nothing else, he shook it off as paranoia. This was a rescue attempt afterall.

Suddenly, Quatre felt something sharp pierce his neck and his eyelids felt droopy. He looked forward to see Stuart looking above him, eyes wide with horror. As he lost consciousness, the last thing he heard was a gunshot, and Stuart screaming his name…

_A/N: What do you think? Leave a review?_

_Will_


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